Moonlight
by BlackShadow875
Summary: In the past, he left everything behind in the shadows of the night. But the moonlight was always there to cast a light on the events of his former life...


_A/N: Hey, how's it going?_

_Yes, I know...a new story...but I have something different to say this time. I will literally push myself to finish this one. I remember myself saying this in the past, but I'm absolutely sure that I will have the confidence to finish this one, even with school starting very soon for me. I've even thrown out another story of mine to make room for this one. This is how confident I am...and I will do my best to not let it down._

_Disclaimer:__ Danny Phantom is owned by Butch Hartman. But this storyline is mine. Do not steal it._

_Here's chapter 1._

_**Chapter 1 - Drifter**_

The evening sky was a dazzling showcase of bright color as the sun dipped below the horizon. Reminiscent of _Aurora borealis_, the last rays of the sun's glow radiated in the sky for all to see, until finally the darkness of night swallowed it whole.

The moonlight showed up several minutes later, casting its faint iridescent glow over the surrounding landscape. The fields took on a more ominous appearance, as the sudden change in temperature caused a fine mist to softly envelop the land. More so, a faint zephyr moved across the land, taking with it many dead leaves and particles that were easily swayed in its ever-changing direction.

One particular leaf, freshly fallen from the tree, was taken away through the breeze as it wafted into higher and higher into the night. Gently turning over and over, the wind eventually let go of it and it started descending quite a distance from its brethren. As it fell, the leaf seemed to be attracted to a certain source of noise. It wasn't the humming of the wind, nor was it the meticulous chirping of the crickets camped next to the small creek.

The source belonged to a harmonica, sending its tones of wailing into the night wind. The owner, with his eyes closed, was playing with it while his back was leaned against a tree. He was sitting on the ground, one leg bent while the other leg was dangling a few feet above the creek next to him.

The leaf landed with a dull thud on his shoulder, and he, not expecting it, was startled, believing it was something that touched his shoulder. But the scare was short-lived, of course, when he realized that it was.

Picking the leaf off his shoulder, he gazed at it while running his hand over the crisp, dead veins. After doing his gesture, he slowly let it fall into the creek on his right, slowly watching as the current carried it downstream.

He was a young man turning into his twenties, with ragged clothes. His face was riddled with numerous but faint scars, and his body was weather beaten to an extent that gave him the appearance of the typical homeless person. But he knew that he was far more than just that.

Not surprisingly, the tin sandwich was the one of his few true possessions, including the clothes on his own back. For the longest time, he wasn't really sure of his own purpose, rather than just living each day and night in an endless struggle to survive.

But he learned quickly that the night was his element. Without the bustling and heyday of the sunlit sky, the darkness was something he easily adjusted to without having to add any suspicions on his own behalf. The less people knew of him, the better.

Being alone soon became a lifestyle. But then again, he had always been used to it, for it had been quite a while that he ever tried to purposely make contact with human beings.

His departure from society wasn't anything he was proud of, but he felt that it was the best thing he could do for the sake of others.

He had literally stripped himself of everything that involved his past life, including family, friends, and even his own name from time to time. He preferred to be nameless - he didn't deserve to have anyone near him, let alone notice him.

There was an incident in his past that left a tarnishing mark on his soul...and he was always doing his best in order to run away from it - trying to make it look like nothing ever happened.

But even from all of his running and his isolation from humans, it always caught up with him.

And as he looked up into the sky, he saw the thing that immediately told his whole story of his past - the reason that he stayed away from others.

He clutched at his head in order to get a hold of himself...but it wasn't working...

There was absolutely nothing he could do to get the memory out of his head. It would forever follow him like his own shadow...always with him, waiting for opportune times to torment him like an endless nightmare...

He could feel the scars from his very first incident...

The first time he had transformed...

The first time that he had killed...and it had to be..._her..._

Distorted images ran through his mind like an out-of-control slide show until finally an image fell on a particular girl which he silently prayed would never surface to his memory again...

_The girl...she was crying, panicking in a corner, trying to distance herself as far away from him as possible, but stopped by the brick wall directly behind her..._

_A hand came out of the peripheral vision of his memory. To his horror, he realized that the hand was his own..._

_**"No! What are you doing?? Stop it!! This isn't you! Please, stop it!"**_

_But the pleas of help were ignored, and soon he was picking her up by her throat, slowly squeezing the life out of her..._

_**"Let me go!! If that's still you in there, please, FIGHT IT!!"**_

_His other hand finally finished the full transformation, as a black claw replaced it instead...no longer resembling a human's..._

_**"I know that's you! Please...FIGHT IT!"**_

_A howl...followed by a scream...everything fading into black..._

Perspiring wildly, he almost had a panic attack as he forced everything back into a corner of his mind. His chest heaved as he vainly started gasping for air. Literally diving halfway off the small ledge he was on, he dunked his head into the shallow creek.

Feeling the cool water against his skin was like a new breath of life, as all the stress from taking his trip into the past just seemed to melt away into the water. As he emerged, he gasped into the night air again, feeling the cold bitter sting of the night air hitting his water-soaked face.

He continually splashed water on himself until he felt the danger had passed, and started breathing a sigh of relief.

But as he looked at the surface of the water, the waxing gibbous moon stared back into his face - a warning of the horror he would have to endure until then.

It was only 6 days until the next one - and somehow he'd have to do his best to hold it all back. As he painfully thought about the future of having to cope with it, he almost felt himself go insane once again. He responded to his stress by once again bathing his head with the water from the creek, and not stopping until he was absolutely sure that he was completely back to normal.

When the second wave of pain subsided, he could only look at his own untransformed hands as thought after thought raced into his mind.

_"Why did it have to be...her?"_

That one was always the most prevalent, as he thought about it over and over again. As he turned his hands over to see his palms, it was always hard to believe that once a night, every single month, they were covered in blood. Blood from some innocent animal that he wouldn't be able to remember the morning after when he woke up from his night of rage.

But the first time...it would always be something he would remember.

It was a human...and not just any human...

The one who had always been his best friend...the one who had always cared about him.

Tears welled up in his eyes, knowing that it was something that he could never fix. Rather than having to speak for it, he did the only possible thing that he could think of at that moment once he realized what he had done.

He ran. And kept running...for three years.

Though he believed it to be a cowardly thing to do, he realized that there probably would have been nothing left for him back there even if he _did_ return back to the place he came. It had been so long...no one would probably even recognize him, for his appearance from having to battle for his survival changed rapidly. Even his own mannerisms of his past were something that had left with him before his flight.

He was a completely different person now. But still, little pieces of his past incessantly kept rising to the surface.

Like the fact that he really did once have a family with a last name, which he no longer remembered...

And bits and pieces of the life he lived before he ran.

Though it was painful, he also remembered the fateful night that he was attacked...and was forever transformed into his current state. That event used to give him the most troubled nightmares, but now it was incentive...

Incentive to find the thing that made him this way...and kill him.

In fact, his current location, in the middle of the field, was not a random place for him to stop and rest. He was waiting for someone.

Someone from his past...

He remembered making a promise to him back then about seeing him again, but after his incident, he felt that he could never keep that promise. But it was one night, out of sheer luck, that he ran into him, and he felt that if his past was going to return to him, he could start out with this.

Quickly rising from the creek, he dried himself off as best as he could, for the water gave him more of a chill factor, and he didn't have a coat with him.

But as he continued drying himself, a strange feeling ran through him - it felt as if the more he tried to dry himself off, the more cold he felt. It wasn't making any sense at all.

But then, within a span of four seconds, a huge chunk of his past life started flooding into him, as he heard a booming voice of familiarity behind him.

_"Amiko! Friend!"_

This was followed by a strange blue mist that slowly curled from his lips. It really _had _been that long...

Turning, he saw the person he had been waiting for. A faint grin returned to his face as he looked up at the looming creature in front of him that was, at heart, a gentle giant.

As the giant wolf licked the young man's face in friendship, he put together the best sentence he could in his limited knowledge of the creature's language.

_"Ni renkontas denove, Wulf."_

_A/N: I suppose this is a good place to stop it for now. Please send me a review._


End file.
